The Hollow Village

The Curse of Velgrad

In the heart of Eastern Europe, surrounded by thick, gnarled forests and forgotten trails, lay a desolate place known only to a few as Velgrad. Time had erased its name from most maps, and the villagers who once lived there had vanished a hundred years ago without a trace.

But the land still whispered. And some whispers were not meant to be heard.

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Chapter One: The Return

In the summer of 1998, a group of university researchers from Prague set out to document forgotten European villages and their folklore. Among them was Elena Marković, a quiet anthropology student obsessed with dark mythology—particularly the legend of Velgrad.

“My grandmother used to say the devil lived there,” she told her skeptical companions. “She called it the village that buried itself.”

Despite warnings from locals, they found Velgrad after days of hiking through dense woodland. The trees grew too close together, and the wind seemed to blow in circles, as if trying to push them back. But curiosity is stronger than fear.

The village was barely more than overgrown ruins. Broken wooden houses, collapsed roofs, a crumbling stone well—and in the center, like a scar on the land, stood the remains of a black monastery, its steeple shattered and its walls etched with strange symbols.

“We’re sleeping here?” asked Tomas, one of the students, glancing nervously at the monastery.

“Just one night,” Elena replied. “Then we leave.”

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Chapter Two: The Coffin

That night, as the others fell asleep by the campfire, Elena wandered into the monastery ruins, drawn by an invisible pull. In the main chapel, beneath layers of moss and dirt, she uncovered something her grandmother once described in her stories:

A stone coffin, bound in chains, covered in runes that pulsed red under moonlight.

As she reached out to touch it, a sharp pain shot through her wrist. She gasped and looked down—where moments ago her skin was bare, now lay a black serpent-like mark, glowing faintly.

Suddenly, the wind stopped.

Then the chains broke.

The coffin lid creaked open with a groan that echoed like a scream.

Elena backed away, but a cold force gripped her legs. A shadowy mist poured out, wrapping around her body, entering her mouth, her eyes, her soul.

She didn’t scream.

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Chapter Three: The Possession

When Elena returned to the camp, she was smiling. Too much.

Tomas noticed first. Her voice sounded…older. Her eyes too dark. When he confronted her, she simply said, “The priestess is awake.”

That night, Tomas went missing.

One by one, the group fell into madness. Two walked into the forest and never returned. Another was found floating in the well, eyes wide open, mouth stretched in silent terror.

By the fourth day, only Elena remained—or rather, Morana, the black magic priestess who had been buried alive centuries ago by the villagers of Velgrad.

Using Elena’s body as a vessel, she walked through the ruins, humming an ancient song. She raised her arms and whispered in a language lost to man. The runes across the village began to glow red.

She was rebuilding her kingdom.

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Chapter Four: The Blood Moon

The curse needed one final ingredient: a sacrifice of blood under the blood moon.

That night, the sky turned crimson. Thunder roared, though there was no storm. The monastery stood tall again—not ruined, but reborn in shadows and bone.

In the chapel, Morana prepared the altar. She placed Elena’s journal beside her—one final mocking gesture toward the girl whose body she had stolen.

But Elena wasn’t entirely gone.

Inside her own mind, she screamed, fought, clawed.

And just before Morana could complete the final chant, Elena surged forward.

With all her willpower, she drove a hidden knife into her own heart, severing the connection.

The monastery exploded in dark fire.

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Chapter Five: Silence

When locals dared to visit Velgrad again years later, they found only ashes where the village once stood.

But a mirror remained. Upright, unburned, in the center of the monastery ruins. No one dared look into it.

Except for one boy—who vanished that same night.

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Epilogue

They say the curse was broken.

Others say it only sleeps—waiting for the next blood heir of Velgrad to return.

But the trees still whisper.

And if you follow the wrong wind…

You may just find the village that buried itself.

And you’ll wish it had stayed that way.